


Love, Me

by CountryDogLover



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternative Meeting, Based on a song, M/M, Running Away Together, Sick Sherlock, Very Sentimental, Very sick, loosely adapted, maybe slightly ooc because of it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-25
Updated: 2016-04-12
Packaged: 2018-05-29 01:51:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6354091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CountryDogLover/pseuds/CountryDogLover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock is very sick, and John tells their grandson about how they met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based loosely off the song "Love, Me" by Collin Raye, although quite a bit had to be changed to make it more like John and Sherlock.

2055

William approached the waiting room quietly, as one should in a hospital. There was no one around, no sobbing families or cheers of joy. Just an average day. But it wasn’t for the Watson-Holmes family.

 

William spotted his grandpa sitting in one of the chairs, staring down a clearly old and worn letter. He looked up when he heard footsteps approaching, and smiled at his grandson.

 

“Hello, William.” His usually strong voice was softer, and certainly sadder than usual. Understandable, as Papa was just down the hall, sicker than any of them has suspected until it was too late to do much of anything.

 

“What cha reading Pops?” William took a seat next to him, leaning over to view the paper.

 

“Mm, a note your Papa left me once a long time ago. Have we ever told you the story of how we met?” William shook his head no. He knew that his grandfathers had met young, and during a time when it was still difficult for two men to love each other the way they do. “Well, let me tell you now.”

 

1993, Summer

 

Aggravated! No, not strong enough. Vexed! Incensed enraged livid furious! Sherlock was positively seething!

 

He had ran as fast as he could from the house, away from mummy, father, Mycroft, from everyone! He was 17 for god’s sake, and he wanted to make his own decisions, not follow in anyone’s footsteps. Mummy wanted him to go into mathematics like her, but Sherlock wanted to study chemistry. He knew it would be an uphill battle, he just never knew how much both parent’s would resist his wishes.

 

Sherlock was by the main road, contemplating just running for it. He could make it to London, apply to university on his own, do everything on his own.

 

Just coming up the road, Sherlock noticed a boy, well a young man, a few years older than himself. Sherlock was still honing his deduction skills, and decided that a bit of logical thinking would help calm him down.

 

_Probably 20, been walking for a long while, obviously running from something, most likely a troubled home life._

But as the man got closer, Sherlock’s deductions tapered in his mind, taking in the blonde hair, spikey and slightly damp with sweat from walking in the summer sun. Dark blue eyes, holding depths of emotions Sherlock couldn’t even begin to understand. A strong body, obvious muscles in his arms that Sherlock wanted to hold him—

 

Just noticing he was being watched, the young man stopped. Two strangers looking at each other, both sure they weren’t staring at a stranger at all.

 

“Hello.”

 

Sherlock’s mouth went dry, and words escaped him as if stolen by this vagabond he met on the street. He managed a nod of greeting, still staring.

 

Sherlock resolutely doesn’t believe in love at first sight. His mind knew that logically love, if such a thing truly exists, is based off of mutual understandings and goals, positive reinforcements and the release of various pleasurable neurotransmitters at optimal times, and none of those things can happen with a single look at another person.

 

But looking at this stranger, Sherlock thought to himself that he might be willing to make an exception…

 

The boy, man, continued. “Are you all right? You’re not lost are you?”

 

“I’m not a child, nor am I lost,” Sherlock huffed, his anger rising again.

 

The other man looked Sherlock up and down, not in a leering manner, just a cursory glance before nodding. “No, no I guess you’re not.” He licked his lips. _Probably dehydrated from walking_ , _been on the road for at least a few days._ “I’m John,” he said. “John Watson.”

 

“Are you accustomed to introducing yourself to strangers along roads you are unfamiliar with? You’ve clearly been walking for three, no four days. Not from lack of viable public transport, but lack of funds. Possibly saving what meager savings you’ve managed to accumulate before making your way. But you’ve also insufficiently planned for food and water, running out of both within the last 24 hours—“ Sherlock stopped abruptly, realizing he was running at the mouth, and the man-John- most likely wouldn’t appreciate that. He expected the indigent reply any second—

 

“Amazing! How on earth did you guess all that?” Wide eyed, John appeared sincere, taking Sherlock aback. He doesn’t like being surprised.

 

He hesitantly explained his deductions ( _not_ guesses), receiving another accolade from John, who kept asking Sherlock questions. Before either of them knew it, they were sitting under one of the trees along the road, Sherlock explaining how he is working to refine his deductions further, and his accomplishments with them so far.

 

They were interrupted by John’s stomach growling, looking sheepish and unwilling to say good bye. Sherlock felt the same, although he had no logical reasoning as to why.

 

“I can get you some food, and some water too. No one will notice if anything goes missing from the kitchen.” Sherlock offered, tilting his head down the driveway he had run down, seemingly a lifetime ago yet by the sun he could tell it had only been about an hour.

 

Nodding, John followed, still looking uncomfortable, but obviously willing to trust Sherlock.

 

2055

 

“So I followed him to his home, and we snuck into the kitchens together, trying not to giggle like children. I had fallen harder and quicker than I think anyone ever has, because after knowing him for only an hour, I knew he was the one for me. But I was on my way to London, having been accepted to Bart’s, and this was my only break. I had been so determined once I left my home behind that I wasn’t going to let anything get in my way…

 

But that was before I’d met your grandfather.”

 

1993

 

Eating one of their stolen apples, Sherlock eyed John. He couldn’t understand how after such a short period of time he could feel his heart already realigning itself to orient to where John was. And John had a plan: go to London and train to be a doctor.

 

“I want to go with you.” Sherlock said suddenly, an idea forming in his head.

 

“Go where?”

 

“To London.”    


	2. Chapter 2

2055

 

“So we made a plan, complete strangers both too young to know how the world worked. But we were unwilling to let the other go. Your papa doesn’t believe in fate, but I know, somewhere in my soul, that we would have met. If not that day, then another day…

 

“But anyways, back to our tale…”

 

1993

 

“I’ll meet you, later tonight by the gate where we met. That’ll give me time to gather some things.” _And steal some money_ , Sherlock thought. If they’re going to survive in London, they were going to need more than what John has.

 

“So seven?”

 

Sherlock smiled, “Seven.”

 

He turned to go to the house, but felt a hand on his arm. He turned back to John just in time to have a kiss planted quickly to his mouth before being released.

 

Sherlock had never been kissed before, had never really thought about wanting to either. But he so inexplicably wanted to kiss John again.

 

So he did.

 

It was a kiss that sealed fates, one that took two strangers and reconnected two souls, fusing them together once more in this lifetime. They were reassured by the other’s feelings, thrust so deeply into unexplored realms of feelings they would never resurface.

 

Sherlock broke the kiss, both of them breathless, and rested his forehead on John’s. He couldn’t believe the trust and adoration in those blue eyes, all for him, but he knew his own reflected the same.

 

“I have to go gather my things, or we will be late leaving.”

 

John reluctantly released him, and Sherlock quickly ran back to his house.

 

Not two steps into the house though, he was stopped by his archenemy.

 

Mycroft.

 

2055

 

“Now, your great uncle Mycroft didn’t like me very much, because he knew that first moment seeing Sherlock how changed his little brother was. And after he was so angry leaving the house, the drastic change to immense happiness made uncle Mycroft suspicious. Although, he was always rather suspicious…

 

“Either way, he threatened your grandpapa that he would tell their parents our plans. But Sherlock, defiant as ever, told him he could do whatever his fat arse wanted, because it wouldn’t stop him from leaving. Well, Mycroft did exactly that, following through on his threat and Sherlock was locked into his bedroom so he couldn’t leave. But your grandpapa, you know how clever he is, he convinced uncle Mycroft that I needed to be met at the gate, and told to leave, or I’d sit there all night. Which is what I would have done, had Mycroft not shown up…”

 

1993

 

John had his back leaned up against the gate, getting worried as the minutes past seven grew. When it was almost half past, John finally heard a noise, jumping up to meet Sherlock, but that’s not who stood in front of him.

 

From Sherlock’s rather angry description, John guessed this stern looking man to be the brother.  

 

John knew better than to ask where Sherlock was, so he just looked back, waiting for the other man to speak.

 

“Sherlock will not be joining you. He has come to see reason and wishes you to leave. You are not to try and contact him. Understood, Mr. Watson?”

 

John, despite his unassuming looks, was not stupid, and was not fooled by Mycroft’s words. He knew Sherlock had felt the same things he did in their brief time together.

 

He kept looking at Mycroft, weighing his options, when he noticed a small piece of paper sticking out of the man’s pocket, with John’s name scrawled on it.

 

_Oh, my clever Sherlock._

John took a step closer to Mycroft, unintimidated even having to look up to keep eye contact. “You know, your family can’t hold him prisoner his whole life. He will eventually be on his own, and I can’t stop him from trying to find me. And I know, I think as you do, that he will do just that, if only to spite you.”

 

John turned on his heel, and walked away with a pickpocketed piece of paper in his hand.

 

He walked, not wanting to be seen reading the note, lest it get taken away from him and he never get to see the words Sherlock so cleverly secreted to him. When he felt safe enough to stop and read the note by the dimming light of the sun, this is what it said:

 

_John_

_I’m locked in my room,_

_But don’t give up on me just yet._

_I’m going to break out, and should be able to meet you in the nearest town_

_Probably about midnight._

_Please wait for me,_

_I’ll be there,_

_Love, Sherlock_

John read the note three times over, memorizing it. He would wait as long as it took Sherlock to get to him.

 

2055

 

“I waited hours in that town, waiting. I knew he was coming though, just as simply as I knew the earth was round. It was just a fact, one that I clung to as minutes dragged in the night. And moments after midnight, your grandpapa was in my arms and were on our way to London.

 

“We knew it wouldn’t be easy, and it often wasn’t. Prejudices were high at that time, and our circumstances were at times so bad we worried it was all a mistake. But I loved him, and love him still so much that I couldn’t imagine our lives any differently. We were one of the first married once the laws changed, and we haven’t had a moment’s regret in our 62 year love affair.”

 

William had always known the love his grandfather’s shared: it is obvious to see by looking at them.

 

He took his grandpa’s hand, leading him down the hallway to where papa laid, sick and wane. He was so tired these days. William knew it was only a matter of time.

 

He hung back as grandpa walked over to papa, grasping his hand. Papa woke, and smiled, and William could almost imagine that smile in a much younger face, one that had just fallen in love.

 

Grandpa spoke. “I was just telling William about how we met.”

 

“That old story. You probably over romanticized it, as always.”

 

“Only for you, my darling.”

 

***

 

John clung to his husband’s hand once more that night after William had left with his mother, knowing the time had come. They were both in the hospital bed, unwilling to be further apart than pressed completely together.

 

“I’m not sure I know how to live without you, love,” John whispered. “I only learned to live once I met you.”

 

“You know I abhor overly sentimental talk. But John, you know, you must know after all these years it was always the same for me too. I have loved you since that very first day. Oh John, I’m not scared of death. But I’m terrified of losing you, to be anywhere where I can’t feel your love.”

 

“My love, my sweet Sherlock,” John said through tears, “That’s simply not possible. Don’t give up on me yet. You’ll be able to feel my love wherever you are, because that’s how powerful it is, and how much I love you. God, I love you so much, Sherlock.”

 

And Sherlock held his husband, crying into the hospital gown (abhorrent thing), until John’s tears calmed and he drifted to sleep. He knew there were no more mornings where they would wake up together, no more cups of tea together or long nights holding one another. But he was so tired, and once the morning came, the nurses found them both wrapped together, in the still slumber that one never need wake from.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, didn't mean to have a Notebook ending, but oh well...


End file.
